Читать книгу The Complete Works of Shakespeare онлайн

540 страница из 942

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.

Is’t like that lead contains her? ’Twere damnation

To think so base a thought; it were too gross

To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.

Or shall I think in silver she’s immur’d,

Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?

O sinful thought! never so rich a gem

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England

A coin that bears the figure of an angel

Stamp’d in gold, but that’s insculp’d upon;

But here an angel in a golden bed

Lies all within. Deliver me the key.

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

Por.

There take it, Prince, and if my form lie there,

Then I am yours.

[He unlocks the golden casket.]

Mor.

O hell! what have we here?

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye

There is a written scroll! I’ll read the writing.

[Reads.]

“All that glisters is not gold,

Often have you heard that told;

Many a man his life hath sold

But my outside to behold.

Gilded [tombs] do worms infold.

Had you been as wise as bold,

Young in limbs, in judgment old,